


Victoria

by gghero



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Bittersweet, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Growing Up, Headcanon, Introspection, LGBTQ Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:14:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gghero/pseuds/gghero
Summary: "She was aloof, quiet. More often than not, distant."This is the story of a solitary, shy girl who liked to hang out with her aunt, and a woman of many secrets, anxieties and well-hidden feelings.





	Victoria

**Author's Note:**

> ......... I guess it's so typical me to fall in love with background/minor characters rip. I just wanted to pay homage to Victoria since i love female characters like her, im weak, i truly am. I hope you enjoy this little introspective fic about her.
> 
> disclaimer: my first language is not English, so please forgive any mistakes // mi lengua materna es el español pero igual quería escribir en inglés para practicar un poco ^^ espero que os guste

 

Ever since she was a little girl, Victoria had been a very solitary child.

It would seem that she was not very good at making friends. Her cold attitude and blunt way of speaking would scare the other children away, and with Santa Cecilia being such a small, old town, there was not much to choose from, either. Coco understood, and, knowing that it was probably best not to force her daughter to socialize, she let her do her thing. 

So, instead of hanging out with the kids at the plaza after school, little Victoria would rather spend time at home: playing with her dolls in the patio, snooping around in the workshop. She was aloof, quiet. More often than not, distant.

It was a complete mystery how, out of everyone in the family, it was Rosita that she decided to cling to.

The two couldn't be more different, yet somehow, it seemed like Victoria never tired of listening to her auntie’s ramblings while she worked at the shop. Victoria would sit on a nearby stool and watch her work, fascinated. She would follow her around the house, and insist on accompanying her to do errands. She let her braid roses into her hair so that they matched. She would ask the occasional question and attentively listen to her aunt’s answers.

The connection between the two ran deep. Not even Coco knew why her daughter had taken such a liking to her sister-in-law. Victoria admired Imelda, but she seemed too intimidated by the admiration she felt for her grandmother to spend too much time with her. With Rosita, she always felt welcome. Her aunt understood and appreciated the girl’s quiet company, and was a natural at reading her prolonged silences. Rosita was warm, like a ray of sunshine in a spring afternoon, and full of love for her niece. 

Rosa never had the chance to marry or have children of her own. Victoria was a bit like a daughter to her, and was as proud as Coco was to see her blossom into an accomplished, sharp, independent young lady sooner than either women would have liked.

After her grandmother's passing, the family felt the loss profoundly. Imelda had given her everything to ensure that both her family and her business would succeed, and her absence did not go unnoticed. Victoria, who had always been told she had inherited Imelda’s passion for organization and her strong character, would often get that she looked just like her Mamá when she was her age, but Victoria looked at the portrait of the woman hanged in the workshop, and did not see the resemblance. She thought herself too cynical and unpleasant to possibly compare to Imelda - poised, elegant and dignified Imelda. 

Ever since the accident, Victoria worried too much about her mother to tell her everything that crossed her mind. She was a sweet woman, full of joy, and she loved her dearly, but there were certain topics Victoria did not want to trouble her with. 

With Rosita, the world was a little brighter. She was her confidant, and with her, the young woman did not feel like she had to be like her grandmother, because her loving aunt would always be there to remind her of how she was already perfect at being herself. She did not have to feel frustrated when, after Elena and Franco got married, everyone would ask if there were any suitors Victoria was not telling them about, because she knew she could always tell her aunt later about how perhaps she was less interested in suitors, and more interested in how gorgeous the old tailor’s daughter looked when she smiled.

“You could always help at the tailor’s shop, you have always loved to dress up...” would say Rosita, knowing full well it would not be her niece's interest in fashion what would make her want to work there.

But Victoria would shake her head vehemently. 

“My place is here, making shoes with all of you. I am a Rivera, through and through.”

It would seem that her duties came before anything else. Too many people depended on her. If she were gone, Coco would surely die of sadness. She had to be there to help her sister with her children. She had to pitch in and help at the workshop, too.

She couldn't leave her auntie behind when illness got the best of her.

Rosita passed away not much later. The loss felt like a blunt pain inside a now middle-aged Victoria, but not even her mature and calm rationale could come to terms with the fact that she was gone. The house looked dull without her pink dresses and floral tapestries in sight. Gone was her sweet voice, her chortles of joy. Victoria would vehemently insist on being the one in charge of placing her photograph in the ofrenda every year on Día de Muertos. She would find herself talking to herself when she was alone, perhaps trying to fill the overbearing silence. With every passing day, she felt weaker and weaker. 

Her own health was suffering, but she told Coco and Elena not to worry. That she was fine, she was strong, she would carry on. Part of moving on involved not forgetting about the loved one that passed away, but instead, fondly looking back on the memories they had together in life. Problem is, she was never able to really move on in the first place.

Victoria died a premature death, barely in her fifties. The doctors had diagnosed her, posthumously, with the same illness that took her aunt Rosita and that had gone unnoticed in her, but her mother was convinced that it had actually been a broken heart that killed her. Everyone was devastated, but perhaps it was Coco who grieved her absence the most. A mother should never survive her child. A mother should never live long enough to watch her child be put to rest in her grave, that was just not how life was supposed to be. 

Part of her felt tempted to read her diaries upon her death, but after pondering it long enough, she decided against it, in her memory. Her daughter had always a mysterious side she never truly got to know, and she regretted never knowing many secrets she may have hidden, or her reasons as to why. It took her a while, but eventually, she was at a peace of mind. She did know that, even though she did not always understand her daughter, or see eye to eye with her, she would always love her.

They placed her photograph right beside Rosita’s, in the family ofrenda, year after year, honoring the close bond between the two. Hoping that it would help guide the soul of their Victoria towards her dear aunt.

Because Victoria might have been a solitary, private woman for most of her life, but in death, there was no reason to be alone and in pain.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos/reviews/comments are appreciated!
> 
> (AN: if you want me to translate and upload a spanish version of this please let me know in the comments// Nota: si quieren y me hacen saberlo en los comentarios puedo traducir y subir la versión en español ^^)


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